


Swings And Roundabouts

by Pimento, SupernaturalMystery306



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Bullying, Castiel's Dad Is An Asshole, Childhood Friends, Dean Winchester Is NOT Emotionally Constipated, Family Issues, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, John Winchester Redeems Himself, M/M, Omega Dean, SPN A/B/O Big Bang 2016, Schoolboys, Slow Burn, Time Skips, Winchesters Making Up, mary is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9119059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalMystery306/pseuds/SupernaturalMystery306
Summary: The park in Abilene is where it all began.For almost a decade, they affected each other’s lives in little yet significant ways. And then they were pulled apart, without the chance to even say a proper goodbye.Twenty years later and they meet again, but Dean isn’t sure whether the boy who gave him so much as a child will even remember who he is, or forgive him for their disastrous last meeting if he does.Will the park that brought them together, be the place that keeps them together forever?





	1. Swings And Roundabouts

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last fic that I’ve posted in 2016, unless I get the urge to post something tomorrow. I would like to thank everyone who has stuck with me this year, your support means the world to me, and I hope you consider this a little present. :)
> 
> I gotta thank the mods of [SPN ABO Big Bang](http://spnabobigbang.tumblr.com) for organising the first bang that I’ve ever taken part in, both as a writer and an artist. This fic would not have been posted for another two years if I did not have this deadline.
> 
> I would also like to thank my dearest friend [Setaeru](http://twxnkdean.tumblr.com), who listened to my screaming and crying about this fic for eight months (way before the bang was announced, to be honest) right up till today.
> 
> I’m mentioning [Reaperlove](http://reaperlove77.tumblr.com) simply because I love her and she was also subjected to my screaming a lot (though more for the art part). XD
> 
> Most importantly, I would like to mention [Pimentogirl](http://pimentogirl.tumblr.com), without whom this fic would have been absolutely impossible. She is the artist, and also the beta, and alpha reader for this fic, and there might have been a part or two OR THREE here that was word-to-word hers. I truly don’t think this would have even half the stuff that it does, if Pimmy hadn’t stepped in to salvage it. She spent days brainstorming with me over titles, ideas, what to write next, whether or not to include something, etc. etc.  
> I request you all to read her works, check out her art, and send her as much love as you can, because Pimento is a gift to this fandom, and to this world at general.
> 
> Enjoy. ❤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full resolution image available here: http://i.imgur.com/oHY1Iou.jpg


	2. Curiosity

**_"Love is curiosity sometimes. Concentrated wondering about the other one.”_ **

_― Kij Johnson_

* * *

**_1984 _ **

Dean threw the ball up, and caught it in his hand as it came down. He could hear the voices of other children in the playground, but he had no intention of playing with them. His mother had told him to make friends, but he didn’t want to. It’s not as if he was _against_ it, he just knew that nobody would be willing to be friends with him once they knew he was the boy who didn’t have a father. It wasn’t even as if it was his fault that he didn’t have one, but of course what five year old would listen to him if he tried to explain?

Mom had gone to the hospital with Sammy, because the little guy was sick. Dean had wanted to go with them, and she had even asked him, but he knew that his mother would have difficulties handling a five and a one year old in a hospital. So he had said that he would stay in the park and play. But then she had asked him to make friends. After all, she said, he would eventually need friends.

They were new in this town, Mom had brought them here after they got away from Dad, and Dean had yet to start school here. He knew that she was right, because no five year old had no friends by the start of the school year. But the town was small, and Dean was certain that almost everybody was already friends with everybody, and where would that put him? If even one person was mean, the rest of them would automatically think that Dean was bad and shun him. He’d rather not have friends and look unfriendly, than try to have friends and get humiliated.

In their old town, once people had found out that his father liked to scream at his mommy, everybody had started whispering wherever they went. They all thought it was because Mom was a “beta,” and John needed an “omega,” whatever that was. The adults would randomly stop his mother in the grocery store and ask what was going on. And Dean’s schoolmates would look at him when they thought he wasn’t aware of it. It was annoying. And Sammy was barely four months old, but had he been older, Dean was sure he would get subjected to the same treatment.

Dean was glad that they moved. Because here, Sammy wouldn’t have to think about how people would look at him for not having a dad. He was a sweet kid, and when he grew up, he would have lots of friends, Dean was sure. But that was because Sammy had a nice attitude. At least, as nice an attitude as a one year old could have. He still shrieked when Dean came near him, but he ate his food.

Dean’s reason for not wanting to talk to anybody was that Dean was not a good kid. He was the one who always caused trouble, even in playschool. When everyone was supposed to be playing with the toys, he used to be sleeping. When everyone was supposed to practice the alphabets, he used to run around in the class making weird noises. No one understood that he needed to let out all the excess energy. Everyone just labelled him as a troublemaker, _the boy who always jumped around uselessly_. That stopped though, when Dad started going crazy. Now he was just the boy who was quiet. Although, occasionally he was loud, he tried to be that way as little as possible. He didn’t want people to once again judge him.

He had been lost in his thoughts, but looked up as he heard some voices suddenly. Some boys had come into the playground to play, and as Dean looked at them from the swing he was sitting on, one of them waved. He was a black haired boy, and looked to be the same height as Dean. Of course, he couldn’t be sure, since the boy was far away and Dean was still not good enough with measurements. The boy motioned to the rest of them as they got onto the slides, and then looked at Dean.

 _Do you want to play with us?_ he was asking.

Dean shook his head, and smiled. The boy had deflated, but seeing Dean smile, he too gave back a toothy grin.

Well, Dean thought, at least somebody was nice here.

It was probably because he didn’t know him, a voice nagged at him, but he pushed that thought away. He wasn’t going to think badly of people he didn’t know. That would make him just like the people from the old town.

**_ 1985 _ **

Dean looked around in the classroom. Everybody was chattering loudly, and he tried not to show his displeasure at the noise. He had barely slept last night. Mom had had one of her episodes- the ones where she got reminded of dad and everything he had done and burst into tears- and Sammy had wailed all night. He didn’t know that a two year old could have such huge lungs that he could scream like that, but of course, he could also not believe that the people around him were first graders. They were all so _loud_ , and couldn’t they _please keep quiet_? The teacher wasn’t in the class yet, and that’s why everybody was talking. He hoped that the teacher would come soon, because if he had to deal with another “I went to this place in the vacations and we did this!” story, he was going to scream.

He knew his anger was unwarranted, because his classmates hadn’t done anything wrong to him, but he was just _sad_.

None of these people had bothered to talk to him since the year started. He had gone to the playground again during the evenings, and once again he had been ignored. He thought that perhaps it was because he wasn’t exactly visible to the other children from where he usually sat, under the shade of a large tree. But he had seen some kids run around from _right next to him_ , and obviously they should have seen him.

He sometimes felt that he took everything for granted; as if everyone was obliged to include him in activities, but how long could a six year old be alone before he started feeling isolated? And this feeling of isolation resulted in restlessness.

It was this restlessness that led him to seek out some boys from his grade during lunch period.

These people had seemed nice enough from a distance, but now that he was here, wasn’t that sure. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try. Perhaps they were genuinely nice.

“Uh, can I play with you people?” He asked quietly, and one of the boys who had been using the monkey bars looked at him upside down.

“Who are you? And why are you even talking to us?”  
Dean flinched back, as if struck by an invisible blow. Nevertheless, he answered, “Dean Campbell. I want to play with you.”

“Well, _Dean Campbell_ ,” the boy said in a mocking tone, dropping down to stand on the ground, “You see, we don’t want to let you play with us. So you can go on your merry way and sulk, or you can go play with the girls. I am sure they’ll be excited to have you.”

“Ale-” one of the other boys started to say, but the leader cut him off, “Come on Benny, you don’t actually want him to play with us, do you?”

The one called Benny opened his mouth again, but Dean didn’t bother to listen. He turned around and walked off, ignoring the laughter of most of the people.

He walked aimlessly for a while, but when he was sure that he was far away from the group of boys, he slumped down to the ground, defeated. Why was everyone so rude to him? He hadn’t done _anything_ to them, then why were they so mean? He sighed. Perhaps there really was some huge problem in him that only he didn’t see.

“Why’re you sad?” Someone said.

Dean looked up to find a black haired boy looking down at him. A faint memory stirred up in his head, but it floated away before he could grasp it. Somehow, the expression of the boy seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Dean chalked it up to the boy reminding him of someone from the old town.

The boy raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for an answer. Dean gulped, and said, “I’m not sad.”

It sounded weak though, pathetic, and he knew that the boy knew it was a farce.

Dean was surprised when the other boy plopped down next to him, using the tree as a support for his back. Sure, he had expressed concern for Dean, but why was he going so far as to actually sit down next to him?

“Tell you what, I know why you’re sad. I saw Alex and his group being mean to you. Except for that Benny dude, but he’s always been weird. So, what I mean to say is, don’t bother getting affected by them. They just want targets. If they didn’t have you, they would just have picked someone else to pick on.”

“Then why did they seem so nice?” Dean mumbled, not looking up from the ground. He was satisfied when he plucked out a blade of grass. The plant reminded him of himself, as sad as it sounded.

“They always do that. They pretend to be all welcoming and stuff but they’re not. That’s how they lure their victims in.”

Dean finally looked up, and asked the question that had been nagging at him all this time, “Why are you being nice to me? And.... do we know each other? I kinda recognise you but also don’t.”

The boy smiled slightly, and said, “Oh, I’m just being nice because _you’re_ a nice person. I’d be rude to you if you were a rude one. And yes, we do know each other. We met last year, in the playground. I was asking you if you wanted to play, and you said no. Do you remember that?”

 _Oh_ , so _that’s_ who this boy was. Dean kind of felt bad, now that he knew that this boy was nothing but nice and he had refused his offer, but how could he have known then?

“So, Dean,” the boy spoke again, and Dean looked at him, urging him to continue, “Don’t be upset if anyone is rude to you. They’re just looking for someone they can harass. If you get affected, they win. If you don’t, they lose.”

With those words, he stood up. Waving to Dean, he turned around and soon walked off.

“Wait-” Dean said, but he wasn’t loud enough, and the boy was anyway far away.

He didn’t know his name. What if he never met him again? He wouldn’t even know the name of the one person who had been nice to him.

But he was mulling over the advice he had got, when the bell rang. He got up, and made his way to class. In class, he saw Benny who stared at him guiltily, but he didn’t react.

Later, almost halfway through the class, Alex (as Dean had learnt his name to be) was dragged into class by another teacher, and Dean’s teacher was told that he had been bullying another first grader. Alex protested, of course he did, but the unknown teacher stated how Alex had first made the first grader cry and then proceeded to make fun of him for crying.

Dean was glad that it hadn’t been him who had been Alex’s victim.

**_ 1986 _ **

Sammy was three, and Dean was in second grade. Every day, Sammy was turning out to be livelier and livelier, and he was a bright presence in their home, and also in Dean’s life.

Dean had adjusted well in school, after two years of being enrolled there. Well, as well adjusted as one could be, when they didn’t have any friends. But he got by, with the minimum interactions he had with his classmates. His academic progress was also good.

Mary had got a job in one of the call centres, and it was a decent one. Her co-workers were nice, judging from the time one of them had dropped her off when she had missed the bus home.

Life was basically good.

Dean was out one day when it started raining. He decided to take the shortcut, the one which took him through the playground. He was surprised to see the same boy from last year. They waved to each other, and then the other boy beckoned Dean closer.

Dean was uncertain. On one hand, he just wanted to get home before the weather got worse than it already was, but on the other hand, he wanted to talk to the boy, and he already felt bad enough from the incident two years ago.

What difference would five minutes make? He was already soaked, as it was. He shrugged and walked closer. The boy had a hoodie on, but even that hadn’t prevented him from shivering. Obviously, he hadn’t been ready for the rain.

Dean finally reached him, and asked, “Why’re you not going home?”

The boy smiled, and said, “What? No hellos? Really, Dean? Here I was sitting, thinking that you’d be glad to see me, but you just want me to go home.”

Dean was about to disagree, but the boy broke out into giggles, and said, “Chill, I was just teasing you.”

Dean pouted, but then repeated his question. The boy sobered up, and said, “Oh, well, nothing. I got locked out of my house actually. So I gotta stay here till sometime tomorrow afternoon before my father wakes up and lets me in.”

Dean cringed. The mention of anyone’s father just- affected him for some reason. He had gotten over the lack of a father figure in his house a long time ago, and truthfully, he didn’t even care anymore- Sammy and Mom were enough- but whenever someone mentioned their father, Dean just got the thought, “ _well aren’t you lucky_.” Which was, of course, not a nice way to think, because perhaps their father was even worse than the man Dean had once called Daddy, but he couldn’t help it.

However, listening to the boy just made him feel almost sorry.

“Why do you need to wait till he wakes up?”

The boy’s face darkened, and it was scarier than any expression he had seen, since the boy looked happy and angry at the same time. “Oh, Dean, my father drinks a lot.”

“Drinks what?” Dean asked, blinking. So what if the man drank... water, or whatever? That didn’t mean he should let his son wait out in the rain.

The other boy snorted, and he said, “He drinks alcohol, Dean. You might have heard about it. If not, then just know that it’s a bad, bad thing.”

Dean nodded, looking at the ground briefly. It was turning to mud at his feet, water turning it wet and disgusting, but all he could see in the dirt was the day when Mom talked to Dad about his “alcohol problems.”

When he looked back up, the boy was looking at him intently. Dean remained quiet, staring back. At last, he said, “You should go home, Dean, before you don’t even have enough light to walk.”

Dean didn’t want to go, but perhaps the boy wanted to be alone. So he nodded, and waving a hand, started walking back.

It was when he was standing outside his house that he noticed something different. There was a car parked in front of the house. A car that he recognized very well, even though he never thought he’d see it again.

Dad’s car.

He stared at it, before walking inside the house. If John was here, Mary obviously had a say in it. (Dean believed that nothing could happen without his mother’s consent.) Perhaps his father wasn’t even in the house right now.

But when he reached the living room, his father was sitting stoically at the couch. Mom and Sammy were nowhere to be found, and Dean distantly heard sounds from the kitchen. Oh, so Mom was probably cooking, and his brother must be asleep.

He tried walking past the man, pretending to not see him, but John called out his name. He froze in his tracks, then turned around to face his father, “Yeah ...Dad?”

“How’ve you been?”

How had he been? Seriously? Why did Dad want to know how Dean had been? It’s not like he cared about what happened to them. Still, he answered, not wanting to strain the already strained communication, “I’ve been okay.”

“Just okay?” the man probed again, “And what are you studying right now?”

Dean took a breath, then replied, “I’m studying in the local elementary school. I’m, uh, I’m in third grade.”

John opened his mouth again, but at that moment Mary walked out of the kitchen to stand behind Dean.

“You said you were here to talk to _me_. I won’t have you interrogating my son.”

John’s face hardened, and he stood up. “Okay then, I’ll just take my leave.”

He barely made it to the door when Mary, having moved after him already, roughly turned him around by his shoulders and growled out something. After that it was again all screaming and shouting, and Dean didn’t know how to handle it a second time.

Sammy had started wailing, awoken by the sounds, and neither of the adults paid any attention to it. So Dean did the thing he was best at—slipping away unnoticed.

His feet carried him to the playground before he knew it. And surprise, surprise, the mystery boy was still there.

The boy seemed surprised to see him there, but Dean didn’t dwell on it. He just walked over to the swing set and plopped his butt down on the wet seat.

“Why are you back, Dean? Don’t tell me you felt bad for me.”

“No,” Dean mumbled, hesitated, then let it out, “my dad came back.”

His companion didn’t say anything, just put his arm around him. Dean sighed, leaning against him. For a seven year old, sometimes the world was just too burdensome.

They sat like that for a long time, and although he was freezing in the rain, he felt comfortable.

Eventually, the other boy decided to go home, opting to wait there, and Dean wanted to offer sanctuary for a night, he really did, but there was no knowing how things at home were at that moment. So he bid him goodbye, and walked back in the middle of the night.

John had driven away, and Mary had gone into shock, crying relieved at Dean’s reappearance.

The next day, he had been taken ill, and for a few days couldn’t leave his bed. But hey, at least things had calmed down as much as they could, and Dean was happy.

**_ 1987 _ **

Dean was swinging lightly, waiting for his mother to come pick him up. School had ended ten minutes back, and he was quietly minding his own business when someone walked up to him.

“Hi, Dean.”

“Er, hi... Benny.” he replied back shyly. Why was Alex’s friend talking to him?

The other boy’s smile showed his perfectly aligned teeth, and Dean offhandedly wondered how they were so straight.

“So, Dean, what are you doing here right now? Shouldn’t you be going home?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m just waiting for my mom to pick me up.”

Benny nodded, “Right, silly me, of course you are! Ms. Campbell always comes to pick you up. ...Why isn’t she here yet today?”

Dean pondered over the question, then answered, “Probably because Sammy kicked up a storm or somethin’. He’s four, but acts like he’s two.”

“Who’s Sammy?” Benny asked, clearly interested, and that’s how Dean got to talking about his little brother, who, at his age, was one of the most annoying yet fascinating things to Dean.

They must have talked for another ten minutes before a car honked. They both looked up at the source of the sound, and Benny exclaimed, “Oh, my parents are here! I’ll see you later, Dean.”

Dean internally pouted. Now there would be no one to keep him company while he waited for Mom. And Benny was leaving right when Dean had got to the interesting part of his story! That just wasn’t fair, when the other boy was the only one other than Dean who had seen the humour in the imitation of Sammy’s undecipherable babbling.

Dean was half sure that Benny wasn’t going to see him again. The conversation they’d had had only happened because Mom was a bit late. But the way he said it made it sound like he genuinely wanted to see him, so Dean smiled and said, “Sure. See you later!”

Halfway across to his car, Benny was stopped by someone, and when Dean looked closely, he found it was Alex. The latter was pointing at Dean and glaring, and he watched with growing dread as Benny mumbled something and walked off, leaving Alex to walk his way. Oh, no.

Alex walked up, and stopped when he really close to him, forcing Dean to stop the movement of the swing. Well, he wasn’t really sure who stopped it. Perhaps it was Alex himself that halted the movement. Dean didn’t know.

“Listen here, Deanie, you want to talk to us, talk to _me_ , don’t go after Benny. And you wanna talk? I’ll _show you how to talk_.”

Dean stared at him, uncomprehending. It was Benny who sought him out, not the other way round! He opened his mouth, but at that moment, a female voice called out Alex’s name.

The boy froze, then—

Dean gasped as he was pulled off the swing and then released.  Sharp, tiny pieces of dirt dug into his palms as he outstretched his hands to support himself, and he cried out at the pain that shot through the limbs.

He saw Alex’s shadow retreat swiftly, and by the time he raised his head to look for the other boy, he was already gone.

“Dean?!” someone gasped, and by reflex, the green eyed boy squeezed his eyes shut. Someone gently put a hand on his back, and coaxed him into looking up.

It was the black haired boy.

He whimpered softly, as tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. What did he do to Alex that made him push Dean off?

“Get up,” his friend said, “staying here isn’t going to make the pain go away, and it’s only going to make Alex feel better. It’s better if you clean yourself up now and save your mother the worry.”

The way he said it sounded—what was the word? Patronising? Yes—patronising, but his tone was anything but. And at the mention of his mother, Dean knew the boy was right.

Wincing, he got up. One of his knees was scratched, the skin torn off and blood having risen to the surface. His friend ran a finger over the wound, and Dean gasped in pain, eyes clenching shut. He looked away, hating himself for being pushed by Alex and not having done anything, and also for not being able to take it like a strong boy.

His friend gently gripped his elbow, and guided him to the bathroom inside the school building.

As they washed away the grit and blood, Dean smiled at the lowered head of the boy through the mirror. He was so nice.

**_ 1988 _ **

At the end of fourth grade, they had a party. Everyone was invited, even the losers, but said losers knew they were expected to _not_ turn up. Dean was one of them. Well, he really wanted to go, because Benny was hosting the party. And he had even arrived there, only to be banned from entering the venue. He had stared stunned at the boys as they laughed at him, telling him to get the hell out of there.

The fifth graders were having their own party, and while theirs had started an hour before the fourth graders’, there were some latecomers.

Dean’s unnamed friend was one of them, and when he saw Dean being harassed by his classmates, he walked over to him.

 “Dean,” he said gently, “you’ve come to the wrong door, the party is this way. Don’t tell me you forgot where it was being held.”

The green eyed boy looked at him with wide eyes, and the other boy, with his eyes, urged him to play along, and Dean floundered, “Er—yeah—uh, well, I guess...? Sorry... Where exactly is it?”

The boy smiled, and offered a hand to him. Dean’s classmates watched on with barely hidden fury, and he inwardly smiled.

Leading him inside, the other boy told him to enjoy, and yeah, he definitely did that day.

**_ 1989 _ **

Someone stole his money.

They were supposed to be going on a field trip that day, and they could only go if they got the required amount of money. And Dean _had_ got the money, but someone took it.

Everyone was taken out of the classroom and made to stand in a single file in the courtyard, so that a headcount could be taken. Dean was the only one left in the classroom.

Deciding that he wasn’t going to be cooped up in the room just because someone hated him, he walked out, unbeknown to the teachers.

He had walked down a corridor, the one which had the sixth grade classrooms, and a black haired boy had come out of one of them only to walk right into Dean.

Surprisingly, it had been Dean’s friend, and when he’d heard that the younger boy couldn’t go to the trip, he had asked him to walk with him.

“I have one hour free,” he said, “I finished my work so my teacher allowed me to go outside. Come sit with me. We’ll talk.”

Dean nodded, and they’d spent that hour talking about all sorts of things.

When Dean had walked back to his class, he found everyone talking loudly, with the teacher nowhere to be found. Shouldn’t they have been to their destination?

He found out soon enough. The trip ended up getting cancelled, since someone injured themselves halfway to the place and everyone had to be rushed back.

Dean quietly observed everyone, taking in the various attitudes and appearing disinterested.

It was funny how these things worked. Dean was sad for the person who got hurt, yes, but he was the person who had had the most fun that day, and for that he was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was raining heavily the day i wrote the rain scene :P
> 
> full resolution pic: http://i.imgur.com/bKvSKK0.jpg


	3. Protectiveness

**_"Everything is to protect you. I exist in case you need to be protected."_ **

_— Jonathan Safran Foer (Everything Is Illuminated)_

* * *

**_ 1990 _ **

In sixth grade, he was in gym class when Alex called him over. Dean was confused, why’d they want to talk to him? He was halfway to the boys when he spied something. Seeing his black haired friend walking out of the teacher’s room, he stopped to say hi.

“Dean, oh, hey! How are you today?” the boy smiled at him, looking a bit worried though he tried covering it up.

He smiled, and replied, “I’m good.” Then, gesturing to Alex and his group, he continued, “I wonder why they want me over there? I mean, the last time we talked was when they told me I couldn’t play with them. That was in... what, second grade? I don’t remember...”

The other boy looked over to where Dean was pointing, and at seeing the boys near the pool, his eyebrow creased.

He looked at them for a few minutes, while Dean awkwardly stood to the side, when he suddenly looked back at Dean agitatedly.

“Are you mad?! You’re not thinking of going there are you? _Seriously_.”

“Uh...” Dean said, surprised, “they called me there...” he trailed off. What answer was he supposed to give to his friend? Was he not supposed to go? Were Alex and his group going to be mean again?

The black haired boy sighed, “Okay then. How about you stay here and talk to me. But seriously, do you not even notic—oh, yeah, okay, you’re too innocent.”

Dean frowned. What did him being “innocent” have to do with what he noticed? Oh, wait, yeah, being innocent meant he wasn’t supposed to know certain things. The other boy opened his mouth to speak again, but at that moment, someone shouted. They looked over, and saw Alex and his friends laughing and slapping each other’s backs. A crowd had formed, students whispering and giggling.

Dean tried moving closer, looking around the crowd, but his friend roughly jerked him back. He gasped as he collided with the other boy’s body, but he was held firmly in place.

“Don’t go,” the boy growled in his ear, and Dean shuddered. What was happening? Why was his friend suddenly so scary?

By that time, the commotion had grown enough for the teacher himself to come out and ask what the matter was. Seeing whatever the students were seeing, he cursed and jumped into the pool, and a few moments later resurfaced with a lump hanging from his hands.

Dean’s eyes grew wide as he realised what the lump was. Garth Fitzgerald.

“Now you know why I didn’t want you to go there?”

Dean nodded, unable to form any words. The students kept muttering amongst each other, no longer laughing, and the teacher was desperately trying to resuscitate Garth. The nurse came in, and the gym teacher started shouting at Alex and his friends.

Dean couldn’t speak.

He just stood there in his hiding place, holding the hand of the black haired boy next to him, thanking God for the other boy’s perseverance. 

It could have been him that Alex dunked into the pool.

 

**_ 1991 _ **

In seventh grade, Alex and his friends cornered him, wanting to know who the guy was that helped him out nearly two years ago. He thought they were talking about the pool incident, but to his surprise, it was the party. Seriously? He said he didn’t know, but Alex didn’t believe him. When he said he wouldn’t tell him even if he knew, Dean got a punch to his jaw.

Benny tried to intervene, saying it didn’t matter, who the heck cared where Dean went as long as he didn’t come to them? But Alex said no, it mattered. Because people like Dean Campbell weren’t supposed to have guardian angels. Those were for the good people, not people like him.

Dean didn’t know how he even remembered, but Alex wanted to know. His friend had matured enough over the years for his physical appearance to—sort of—change. And surprisingly enough, none of the boys knew who the guy was, as in they didn’t even recognise him anywhere in school, and it perturbed Dean as much as it relieved him. If they didn’t know him that was good, but was he never in school? And Dean was pretty sure it had started recently. Because earlier he still saw the boy in the corridors, now there was no sign.

Alex was livid, but after a while of Dean not answering, he had to stop. Kicking up a storm, he walked away with his friends in tow, and Benny looked back at Dean sadly. Oh, well.

Dean slumped against the tree he had been sitting under the shade of earlier, and smiled with his swollen lip. 

Alex hadn’t done too much damage, and Dean hadn’t had to reveal the identity of his friend.

The friend who had helped him so much.

Perhaps this was one time when Dean had been able to return the favour. That was good.

**_ 1992 _ **

Dean was near the playground when he heard some shouting. He frowned, trying to locate the source of the noise. And suddenly, his black haired friend was running past him.

“H—ey!” Dean said uncertainly, the predicament of the name making him stutter. What was he supposed to call out?

The boy turned, frowned for a minute, then grabbed Dean’s hand and dragged him along. Dean went with him, not knowing where they were going but trusting him to protect him.

Eventually they reached the swings, and Dean was momentarily sent back to the time when he spent hours with his friend, sitting in the rain and talking about his family all those years ago.

He wondered if the other boy’s agitation had to do something with his father.  
As the black haired boy sighed and said, “Hello Dean, it’s been a long time,” Dean couldn’t help but blurt out, “You’ve not been coming to school.”

The boy smiled mirthlessly and replied, “Oh, so _you_ noticed?”

Dean nodded uncertainly. Was he not supposed to notice? Or was—was his friend saying that because Dean was pretty oblivious most of the time?

“It’s nothing, Dean. Just my dad being an asshole.”

Dean knew the feeling now, even though he hadn’t known what to call it five years ago. He nodded with a wince.

“So he’s been saying some shit and not letting me go to school.”

Dean’s eyes flew to land on the blue pair in front of him in surprise. The boy’s father didn’t let him go to school? Wasn’t that illegal?

He voiced the question, and all of a sudden, Dean’s friend was telling him all about what had been going on for years now. This time his father had blown up because he had said that omegas were just as good as alphas, and obviously a drunk alpha wouldn’t like to hear that.

“Tell you what,” Dean said, unable to listen any longer to everything he had been hearing since forever, “you come home with me, we’re going to—oh my god, dude, what happened to your neck?!”

The boy stopped speaking as Dean began, and at the horrified question, he smirked at the green eyed boy. “Heh, nothing, sweetie, nothing you need to worry about. Daddy got a bit handsy.”

Dean cringed. On one hand, he knew that people his age (consequently his friend’s age, who was one year older than him) talked like that, so it was “normal” to hear those words. On the other hand, it just made him uncomfortable, witnessing those words coming out of the mouth of someone he associated with kindness, and that special attitude of helpfulness that most people in this town did not possess.

Nevertheless, acting like a disappointed mother wasn’t going to get him anywhere, so he shook his head and repeated his earlier statement, “You’re coming home with me.”

As he turned around, he didn’t see his friend smile fondly, didn’t see him look up at the sky and grin.

**-x-**

When Mary saw his friend, she took him aside. “Dean, who is this boy? What happened to him?”

Dean hesitated. He didn’t know his friend’s name, what was he supposed to say to her? “Uh, mom, he got hurt.”

His mother sighed, clearly having expected that, “I _know_ he’s hurt. My question is, _how_ did he get hurt?”

At Dean’s cornered expression, she sighed. Running a hand through his hair and patting him on the head, she smiled gently, “It’s okay, honey, I’ll deal with this.”

“Mom,” he said in a small voice, overcome with gratitude for the person who had continued to be there for him and Sammy, even when everyone else had gone, “Please don’t tell me his name.”

She smiled again, going to tend to the blue eyed boy’s injury.

**_1993 _ **

In ninth grade, news about John Winchester’s arrival spread like wildfire. Wherever Dean went, he heard words like “his father,” and “ruined their family,” blah blah blah. What was their problem anyway? Did he ever go and ask people about their families? _He_ never went and gossiped about whose mom cheated on whose dad and who got claimed by which douchebag alpha.

John coming back changed many things. Mary had been getting increasingly happy the few days before his arrival, and it turned out that she and John had met again and decided to give it a shot. Dean didn’t know how it happened, but he wasn’t going to question it. Sam wasn’t too keen to accept Dad back into their lives, but Dean hoped he’d come around.

While things were relatively good at home, in school they were not. Dean’s grades were okay, he understood the stuff they were taught, but he just couldn’t _focus_. Whenever he was in the hallways in school, his eyes kept searching for his black haired friend. Being in a higher class than Dean, he was rarely around. On top of that—Dean was sure—the boy’s father was hampering him from coming to school.

He didn’t want the other boy to think he was desperate, so he never went to check up on him at his house. He doubted the father would let him in anyway, if what the boy said was true. And now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know where the house was. All he knew was that his friend lived near the playground.

So he went on with his life, going to school, listening to and ignoring the things said about him and his family, all the while hoping that his nameless friend would show up.

Surprisingly, Alex and his friends had been keeping their distance as well. All except Benny Lafitte, who was suddenly _everywhere_.

It was a Tuesday, when Dean heard it. People were talking once again about someone’s father, and disgusted, Dean turned away only to be stopped by Benny. “You heard the news?”

“Uh, no...” Dean said, wondering where it was headed. As Benny said, _Novak_ , something niggled at the back of his brain. 

“Who?” he asked, curiosity piqued now, and Benny replied, “Castiel Novak. Apparently his dad was—what are you looking at?”

Dean didn’t reply, because his attention had already been caught by someone. And that someone was making his way over to him, black hair easily recognisable from their disarray.

Dean’s friend stood there, impassively looking at Benny before turning to Dean. Lowering his voice, he spoke, “The child services people came. They took him away yesterday evening.”

Dean heard Benny whisper as the black haired boy walked away, _that was him_ , but he didn’t pay any attention.

After almost a decade of knowing him, Dean had finally figured it out. His black haired friend’s name was Castiel Novak—and he had once again taken the burden off Dean by getting the focus away from him.


	4. Goodbye

_**"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."** _

_-A. A. Milne_

* * *

**_1994 _ **

No one saw it coming. People younger than eighteen barely presented.

But there he was, Dean Campbell, an omega of early presentation, contrary to 95 percent of the population. And oh, did anyone mention that he went into heat in school with a bunch of older students—some of them alphas, and most hopeful that they’d soon be—all horny for his ass?

It was so sudden, one moment he was waving to Castiel—it felt good to say his name—and the next, his eyes had turned golden and Cas—felt even better—had gasped and walked over to his side, fear clear in his eyes as he tried to shield the omega from the suddenly growing crowd, mostly of the upperclass alphas and their friends.

All of a sudden, Alex was there, shoving away the people and—

Castiel stepped in at the last moment, shielding Dean from the bully’s grabbing hands.

As the two tumbled around on the floor, throwing punches, the alphas closed in. Dean thought he was done for, crying out Castiel’s name in fear as some of the elder students grinned sleazily, when someone suddenly lunged at the two fighting boys and pushed them apart.

It was Benny.

Due to Dean’s heightened senses, he was able to make out words that he otherwise wouldn’t have, but it wasn’t any use, since he didn’t understand anyway.

“You take care of Dean, I’ll deal with this asshole,” Benny urged Castiel, “He’s your—friend, after all. Not mine.”

Smiling wryly at the blue eyed boy, Benny wished him luck before pushing him aside as Alex turned to him.

And then Dean blacked out from the fear and hormones.

**-x-**

It was a few days after Dean’s heat. Mary said they had to leave the town. Too many people had got to know what had happened. And none of them were keen to have Dean study with their children anymore. They wouldn’t tell their own children to control themselves. Nope, everything was the omega’s fault. And, of course, the black haired alpha that was too righteous for his own good.

That town was, she sadly admitted, as bad as the one they’d inhabited over a decade ago.

Dean didn’t want to leave. He’d had good times in the place. “What good times, Dean?” John had asked, and while he didn’t want to tell his father about it, he’d quietly uttered Cas’ name.

Sam was sad to leave. Heck, he’d been throwing a tantrum, but that stopped the moment Mary shot him a look.

She'd obviously already discussed it with him, something Dean resented. Just because he hadn’t been in the right mindset for the last few days, she didn’t have to talk to his _younger_ brother and not _him_.

After a lot of arguments, some crying on Dean’s part (which everyone was blissfully unaware of, thank you very much!), some arguments between the brothers, and a lot of packing, the Campbells plus Winchester were ready to leave.

On the last day, Dean stood at the porch.

The wind was blowing softly, and his heart ached. In just half an hour, they’d be leaving this all behind- the place where he had spent so much of his life. He’d been _five_ when they’d come here. He didn’t even remember much from their old town. All he remembered were the whispers that used to follow his family, John’s screaming, Sam’s wailing, and the car his dad had. He used to love going places in the Impala with John.

And for the past two years, he hadn’t done that, not comfortable with his father even after he had reconciled with Mom. So many things had changed.

He caught himself smiling at the thought of the Impala, and schooled his features as Sam came out. He stopped next to Dean, and the elder Campbell looked down at him.

“You’re sad, aren’t you.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, and he didn’t provide an answer. “That’s fine,” Sam continued, “so am I. Mom… She doesn’t know about it. Neither do you. Dad kind of thought it, but I convinced him otherwise, and he didn’t bother trying to find out if I was right or wrong. But… I, uh, had a girlfriend.”

Dean turned to him, surprised. He hadn’t really noticed anything out of the ordinary with his brother. Sam’s lips twisted up in a self deprecating smile, almost as if reading his thoughts. “Yeah. We have to leave, she didn’t like that. So, uh, we ended things. And it _kills_ me. But we can’t do anything about it. Mom and Dad we have to leave, means we have to leave. Even if we hate it.”

When had Sammy become so mature?

They were silent for a while, both looking at the trees, its leaves and branches swaying gently. Everything was quiet, almost serene, and Dean couldn’t ignore what he’d been trying to ignore all along.

He didn’t have to say anything, because his brother had the same thought.

“Are you going to say anything to Castiel?”

Dean clicked his tongue, letting his brother know he was listening. Didn’t Cas know?

“He doesn’t know, no one told him.” Sam said, and Dean cursed himself for being to readable. “They expelled him, Dean.”

_What?!_

Dean said as much, and Sam winced at his brother’s intensity. “They said it’s ‘cause he was too unruly, always skipped school, and stuff. But everyone knows it’s because the authorities are messed up. They didn’t like him defending you. I’m sorry, Dean.”

That right there, was a classic example of the fucked up prejudice against omegas and their supporters.

“But he didn’t do anything! None of it was his fault! He didn’t put me in heat, he didn’t do anything stupid, nothing was his fault! I know I wasn’t thinking, or whatever bullshit they all want me to think but I _know_ Cas would never do anything stupid.”

Sam opened his mouth, eyes sad, but at that moment their mother walked out with their father, carrying two bags. Dad set one down on the ground, and Sam bent down to pick it up. Inserting the car keys into the lock, Dad looked at them, “Do we have everything? Ready to go?”

Dean wanted to scream. No, he didn’t have everything. He wasn’t ready. Had never been ready for any of the shit that life had thrown at him since he’d been a kid.

He hadn’t been ready when they had to move from his old town to this one because John got too dangerous. Hadn’t been ready to start school in a place where everyone looked at him meanly like he was an outsider. Hadn’t been ready for how he’d been treated by so many of his peers. Or how he’d been ignored whenever he wanted people to listen to him, give him attention. He hadn’t been ready in third grade to see his Dad’s car in their driveway, something that signified their carefully constructed life’s past, if that made sense. He hadn’t been ready to hear that _once_ again, John had messed things up, just like he’d not been ready when Mary announced that John was going to live with them again. He’d never been ready to have Castiel help him for so many years when his own grade was too fucking rude to care for him. Hadn’t been ready to have his bullies go after Cas, which made him take the hits for both himself and his friend.

And now, after _everything_ , he wasn’t ready to leave it all behind in the hopes that they could start anew.

But no one would listen to him.

Mary stared at him. Gesturing to the car, she jutted her chin out at Sam. Her younger son nodded, hurrying over to the car where John stood.

Dean was looking at the ground when a hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up to find his mother’s concerned face.

“Do you want to go meet Castiel before we leave?”

He stared at her, unblinking. Was he—oh God, was he actually being offered the chance to meet his friend one last time?! He nodded mutely, not trusting himself to give a coherent verbal response. She nodded back, and said, “you have fifteen minutes. Go now.”

Dean turned, ready to leave, before he caught Sam’s dull face from where he was sitting in the backseat of the car. He pointed to the road, asking if his brother wanted to come along, but Sam shook his head, smiling weakly.

Dean sighed. He wondered how hard Sam was taking the absence of his supposed ex-girlfriend. Then he breathed in determinedly.

He had around fifteen minutes to go to Cas’ place—not the one where he used to live with his dad in, but the one child services had allotted him—find the boy, talk to him—say anything that he could without appearing like an ungrateful asshole—and then come back. Manageable, if only he knew if Cas was in his house or not. Nevertheless, he had to start somewhere.

He walked out to the road with brisk steps, but as he got farther away from his house, walking through the familiar roads, tears pricked at his eyes. Why was he not able to deal with any of this like a mature adult? He had even _presented_ , for God’s sake. That was like, the rite of maturity or something. He was so devastated, _goddamnit_. But he couldn’t afford to slow down, he told himself, not _now_ of all times.

He quickened his pace, and soon was at the building Cas stayed. When he found no sign of the boy there, and the people in the building denied knowing where he was, Dean searched wherever he thought Cas could be.

At last, he made his way to the playground, but the place was empty. Where  _else_  could Cas be? The boy wasn’t antisocial, so he could be anywhere, but Dean didn’t remember ever seeing him anywhere else.

His eyes flitted over to Cas’ old house, then he physically turned himself around. Castiel wouldn’t want him to be in that place, and Dean was going to respect his friend’s wishes.

With nothing to do, he sat down against a tree. He was surprised to remember that it was the same tree he had been sitting under, many years ago. He didn’t stop the tears this time, though they seemed to be stubborn, since very few came out.

Spying a twig nearby, he picked it up. There was nothing else he could do. And he only hoped Cas saw this. It wasn’t as if he actually could make sure that his friend saw it, but he was going to hope like hell.

Turning so he was on his haunches, he scraped away some of the dirt. Finding himself enamoured by the fallen leaves and dust, he berated himself. There was no time for dilly dallying.

Determinedly, he dug into the earth with his twig. When he was done with his work, he sat back to look at it.

It wasn’t neat, of course, but Dean only hoped his writing was legible.

In the dirt, he had scoured  _Thank you, Cas_.

He got up, stretching to regain his balance, and walked out with hurried steps, all the way back to his house.

Minutes later, the Campbells were peeling out of their drive, never to come back.

Hours later, when Castiel came into the playground looking for Dean, not believing the townspeople that the Campbells were gone, his attention was drawn to the ground near a tree.

He remembered the tree.

And the thing that was written into the dirt under the tree was something he would forever remember.

 _Thank you, Cas_.

There was only one person who had ever called him Cas.

**-x-**

They told him later that Castiel had tried his best to protect him, and he had succeeded. He had only had to deflect the onslaught of the alphas till Benny managed to drag Alex away and get free of him, before calling the teachers.

Benny had been praised for his conduct, his level headedness, although he had been suspended for a week.

It was Castiel who had been expelled, having _created a lot of problems_ for everyone involved.

**_ 1996 _ **

It had been two years since they’d moved here. Dean was out on the terrace when he felt someone come up behind him. The moon cast everything with a dull glow, and he was able to make out the shadow as it stopped. He looked back, and found his father staring at him. John looked away, then took a few steps closer, and stared out at the city.

“Feeling okay?” he asked, and Dean made a non-committal sound. Why was he asked if he was okay or not? It wasn’t as if he had indicated otherwise...

“Good to know,” Dad said when he didn’t elaborate. “Do you miss it?”

Dean froze. So he knew.

Exactly 731 days ago, they’d left Abilene, and honestly, he hadn’t expected any of them to remember.

John snorted, “You’re not the only one who didn’t wanna leave, son.”

The omega frowned. If John was really that much against it then why did he not say anything?

“I wanted my son to fight against them assholes, y’know? I was downright pissed when I heard they tried that shit with you. I wanted to tell Mary to let us all stay there and watch you kick their asses. But she was against it.”

The frown got deeper, and John sighed heavily. “Your mother didn’t want any more drama. She wanted a new start.”

“And you agreed because? I don’t know dad, but I don’t exactly remember you being so agreeable, ever.” Dean said, unable to resist questioning the surprising behaviour.

John smiled, and it hurt Dean’s heart, because it looked like the smile he had seen on Mary’s face infinite amount of times when she used to talk to her sons about their father. He’d seen it on Sam’s face too the day they were moving away.

He sometimes found himself wearing the same smile when he thought about Castiel.

“Because, son,” his father said, “there is nothing in this world that we wouldn’t do for love.”

Where exactly was this going?

“And if your mother wanted to move to the end of the world, then so be it. I wouldn’t stop her. I’ve lost her once, I’ve lost her twice. I’m not repeating the same mistake a third time.”

Then something even more surprising happened. John turned, and for the first time in more than twelve years, Dean got a hug from his father.

He let himself be held, controlling his breathing to not burst into tears, and John held him tightly. After a minute, the elder man moved away, whispering to him to take care of himself and go to sleep soon.

Dean waited for the footsteps to recede, making sure there was no one there before he furiously wiped at his eyes. He gazed back up at the moon, and his father’s words echoed in his ears.

 _A new start_.

Dean could work with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full res pic: http://i.imgur.com/BBYH72m.jpg


	5. Love

**_“The future for me is already a thing of the past -_ **

**_You were my first love and you will be my last”_ **

_― Bob Dylan_

* * *

**_2004_ **

Dean snorted as Jo finished her tale. They were waiting for Charlie to turn up at the bar. She was going to bring a friend with her, and they were supposed to be on their best behaviour, since the friend was too _sophisticated,_ or something. Bleh, it’s not like Dean cared if some alpha had his head stuck up his own ass or an omega’s. An ass was an ass, regardless of the presentation.

....Although now that he was getting into this, he realized that the difference in presentation dictated quite a lot, for example, the way of presentation.

He caught himself right as he was about to delve into the details of it. Also known as, _Dean can you ever stop thinking with your dick?!?!_ It wouldn’t do well to have Ellen and everyone to smell his arousal. They all made fun of him because they never got as much ass as he did.

A chair was pulled out noisily, startling Dean and pulling him out of his thoughts. It was the one next to him, and the man holding it smiled apologetically at him. Dean’s first thought was ‘hot damn,’ but seeing the smile and the genuineness behind it, Dean’s thoughts morphed to ‘wow so beauty must have.’

...he blamed Charlie for showing him those memes.

As Charlie introduced everyone to the man, Dean didn’t pay attention. However, when the man introduced himself, Dean froze.

When she had introduced Dean, she’d called him Winchester, and not Campbell. Because, well, he changed his name once things became better with his Dad, and he’d gone by Dean Winchester ever since he finished his schooling in Dallas. But the stranger in front of him never changed his name, which is why he called himself Castiel Novak.

 _Fuck_.

Only Jo knew about it, and she jerked violently and almost spilled her drink as she swivelled to look at him. He smiled weakly, but he knew it looked more like a grimace.

Charlie and her friend— _Castiel_ —didn’t notice. They settled down, and Dean spent most of the night just drifting in and out of the conversation, not really paying attention to anything other than Jo’s angry elbow jabs in his side.

“Say something— _anything_! He deserves that much, Dean.” she’d whisper now and then, and with a growing amount of dread, he realised she was right.

By the end of the night, people had had enough drinks that they were stumbling up to the rooms above the bar, and the ones who were sober enough to drive were walking out in groups of threes and fours.

Dean tugged at Charlie’s sleeve, internally sighing when Castiel stopped too, and spoke to her, “Where’s he staying, Charlie?”

He hoped he was soft enough to go unheard, but that was not the case, since Castiel laughed lightly and said, “Don’t worry about me, although I appreciate your concern, Dean. I shall get a taxi, and I’m sober enough to anticipate any attacks should anyone try anything.”

Him talking so formally really was making Dean blush. Kind of. Hopefully lightly enough that no one would notice.

Castiel looked at him a bit oddly, so he hastily said, “No need for a taxi!”

The alpha smiled a bit, lips twisting unsurely, and replied, “I don’t have any other mode of transport.”

Frustrated, Dean opened his mouth, but Charlie—having caught on to what he was trying to suggest—beat him to it. “Come on, Castiel! Dean’s right, you don’t need a taxi. Dean can drive you. He doesn’t live that far from you, and he’ll behave. I promise.”

Castiel lived close to him? And he’d never known?

“Yeah, yeah man, I live close by, I’ll drive you home.”

Charlie’s phone rang then, and she picked it up, talking to the person on the line before hanging up. “Gilda wants me home, gotta go. Bye, Castiel and Dean! Have fun, drive safely, and be good!” and she rushed out, leaving them both staring after her.

“Well, you heard the girl.” Dean said decisively.

“I—I did, although I’m not sure which part you’re referring to.”

“The part where she tells us to drive safely!” Dean triumphantly declared. “So, Cas,” he threw an arm around the alpha, “Ready to get home?”

And Dean dragged Castiel out—the alpha protesting weakly the entire time. When they finally reached the Impala, Dean whirled around to face the other man.

“For fuck’s sake, Cas, I’m not gonna murder you! Get in the goddamn car and let me drive you home.”

Castiel backed up, eyes a bit wide, and Dean calmed himself down. “Sorry, I’m just—look, it’s awkward, okay? I’m offering you a ride and you’re refusing. And—and I’m used to giving rides to people.”

The blue eyes in front of him darted around uncertainly, before the man smiled at him. Walking over to the door, he opened it and slid inside on the seat next to the driver’s. Tilting his head, he looked up at Dean, “Want to get inside?”

Dean watched him for a moment, before huffing out a laugh and getting inside. Cas was still funny.

Dean gave every appearance of focussing hard on the road, but his mind was running faster than the purring engine. It should be so simple. To tell him. To gently drop his name into the conversation, to reveal who he was. He did really want to talk to the man about everything, but the last time they had seen each other was _ten years ago,_ and he’d been in _heat_. And after that, all he had left in thanks was a note crudely carved into the ground. What if Castiel never even read it?!

Forgive him if he didn’t want to face his saviour. Face burning, he flexed his fingers round the wheel, and kept his eyes on the shining black top, turning the wheel obediently as Cas gave him directions in that soft, gravelly voice that made his heart ache.

The journey, which seemed to last forever, was actually mercifully short. He felt the bump of the suspension as Cas climbed from the car, flinching slightly as the door slammed shut.

“Thanks for the lift.”  He glanced up to see a warm smile that lit bright blue eyes.  His own lips curled upwards, and they exchanged a glance, before Cas straightened up and began walking up the path to his house. “Good night, Dean… Campbell.  Sweet dreams.”

Holy shit.

He drove home, replaying every smile, every look, every word of their conversations, and when finally he slept that night, he dreamt of blue eyes and tousled hair and of the town where he spent most of his childhood.

It was a few days later, and Dean was rushing to the bakery to get his usual breakfast of pie and coffee when he bumped into someone—okay, crashing was a better word—and sent them both tumbling to the ground. Thank fuck this didn’t happen when he was returning, or someone would have got their pretty face singed by the scalding drink.

He sat up on his knees, groaning, and extended a hand to the poor human who fell along with him. Shielding his face with the Sun’s rays with his other hand, his eyes finally rested on who the other person was. His hand—still between them—wavered.

Of _course_.

The universe must love him, or really, really hate him—which seemed more like the case, given almost his entire life—because Castiel Novak was kneeling next to him. His hair was drenched, and he sat there looking for all the world like he had spent an hour fucking someone enthusiastically. His shirt was moulded to his body, and sweat ran down his forehead. And, oh, he was wearing a tiny pair of shorts that left nothing to Dean’s overactive imagination.

What a nice way to start his day!

He forgot all about his hand, till Castiel gripped it, and then it felt as if the most beautiful angel had descended from heaven to grace Dean with his presence.

“So...” he said awkwardly, then trailed off. What was a good way to start a conversation with a guy who he had given a ride a few days ago, and almost poured his heart out to?

Castiel smiled slightly, and parroted back the word.

Dean internally cringed, wanting to hide his face in shame, before worked up the courage to ask a simple question: “how are you today?”

The other man’s eyes crinkled as his smile grew into a bright grin, and he replied, “I’m well, thank you, just getting back from my run. What about you?”

Dean certainly didn’t stutter while replying when his mind provided images of Castiel running, his thigh muscles working deliciously to move hi—he had to stop right there.

Afterwards, Dean somehow roped the alpha into coming with him to the bakery, and Daphne the Baker kept throwing them sly glances the entire time. Perhaps it was more uncommon for Dean to share his pie than he had thought.

The first time Dean kissed Castiel, he called Jo up, saying, “Crap, he almost tastes better than pie. I mean, fuck, no, almost _as good!_ ”

Jo had laughed, telling him that pie would bring him not even a quarter of happiness Cas could bring him if he chose to pursue a relationship with the alpha. Dean had spluttered, disconnecting the call as Jo cackled away into his ear.

He had stared at the wall after a long time then, mulling over her words before groaning. She was right, but a relationship?  Did Castiel even want a relationship?  Sure, he’d kissed him, but there’s a world of difference between enjoying someone physically and… He closed his thoughts down, he’d learnt a long time ago: take the small wins for what they are. Life is no fairy tale.

It was a few days after the first kiss that Castiel invited him for dinner. It was a thinly veiled excuse for a date, and they both knew it, so Dean dressed extra nice, fussing over his hair while Jo crowed at him about being in love, and called Sam up to tell him about his brother’s dramatics. He had grumbled, but even he couldn’t stop smiling. Whatever.

The dinner went wonderfully. Cas was a damn good cook, and the pie, oh goodness, _the pie_. He made _PIE._ Dean’s reaction to the dessert was a bit less than innocent, but hey, the pie deserved it. Cas might be a bit jealous of it though, and might have pouted a bit, but he accepted the compliment all the same.

A few days later, Dean was sprawled on the couch, getting increasingly impatient.  He knew Jo was going to give him hell if he was late to the party. She had, he suspected thrown it just so he would have an excuse to ask Cas along to something, anything.  “Cas, we’re gonna be late.”

His only response was a muffled “I know.”  The sounds from the bathroom unchanging.  

Dean got up heading for the kitchen, figuring if he was gonna have to wait he might as well do it with a coffee in his hand.  There was a click as he approached the bathroom door and finally it opened.  Castiel stepped out into the corridor right in front of him, glorious, water dripping from his barely dried hair, glistening droplets clung to his skin, towel slung around his hips and clenched in a fist at his waist; Dean, momentarily distracted by the sight, walked right into said sight.

The alpha gasped, his arms coming up to support Dean, and in doing so, loosed his grip on the towel, baring everything to the omega’s wide open green eyes.

Oops.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing heavily.

And then, as suddenly as the moment had begun, it shifted.  They were no longer stood staring at one another. Mouths smashed together, hands clawed at flesh, fingers dug into skin, desperation in every tiny movement and then in one smooth twist Castiel flipped them around and crowded the omega against the wall.

Dean moaned, the sound high and too loud in the small corridor.

“Cas, I—”

The alpha silenced him with a growl, and another swipe of his tongue made the omega melt in his hold, slumping back against the wall, clinging to Castiel with intense need.

“How ‘bout we move this to the bedroom, mh? I’m sure you wouldn’t want your first time with me to be right outside the kitchen _and_ bathroom.”

Dean mumbled something, but the alpha’s freakish hearing picked it up, “Oh, you want me to do you in both those places?”

Dean flushed, and Castiel smirked.

“Patience, my omega, in time we’ll defile every surface of your house, and mine.” the promise was breathed right into his ear in the most sensual way, and the green eyed man’s limbs turned to jelly as a full blown shudder took over his body.

Why on earth did this gorgeous man waste a second of his time on him?

**-x-**

Dean breathed erratically, trying to come down from the high. He couldn’t believe Cas had riled him up with just a blowjob. But damn was it a satisfying one.

“So...” he spoke slowly, “we’re not gonna have sex, I take it.”

Castiel looked at him, and then started shaking silently. Pretty soon, he was full out laughing.

“Come on, man!” Dean turned red, “I thought we were going to fuck when you kissed me senseless against the wall.”

The alpha absolutely _roared_ with laughter, and Dean gave him a little shove, the thought that he might just push him off the bed, flashing through his mind, but he refrained. At length, Cas quietened, and looking at Dean, said, “I want our first time having penetrative sex to be more memorable, Dean. I don’t want to tell people years down the line that it was because I came out of the shower and my towel fell.”

“....Not that I’m going to be telling anyone about our trysts.” he tacked on as an afterthought.

“Shit,”  Dean exclaimed suddenly, startling Cas.  “Jo is gonna kill me!”

 

Dean was standing one day, looking at a picture frame of the Winchesters during a vacation long ago, when Castiel looped a hand around his waist and rested his stubbly chin on the omega’s shoulder. Dean leaned back into him, and sighed as Castiel’s arms tightened their hold.

“What’s this?”

“Ah, just a place we went to. My mom’s family invited us to spend Christmas with them. Naturally, they didn’t get along with Dad, and so he, in a fit, drove out with us all—Mom was just there to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, to be honest—and we ended up in some other city. It was entertaining. We had a good time there.”

Castiel smiled. “What was it like, going by car? I’ve never really travelled in a car for a prolonged period.”

Dean gasped, feigning offence, “Mr. Novak, you’re telling me that you’ve never been on a road trip?”

”That is just what I meant.” he winked.

Dean shook his head, grinning, “There is so much I have to teach you, man.”

This time, a genuine smile took over his features as his face softened, and Castiel murmured, “I would really enjoy that, Dean. I’ve always wanted to go on a long drive but never had the reason, nor will, to do that.”

“Perhaps we could mend that.” Dean mumbled, and Castiel nodded, nuzzling into the omega.

**-x-**

A few days later, when both of them were in bed, Castiel suggested it.

“Dean?” The alpha murmured into his ear.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I was thinking… Remember our conversation some days back? Well... You love the Impala. I would love a vacation. Do you think…”

“Cas, buddy,” Dean said, a smile creeping up on his features, “are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

**-x-**

And that was how they planned a road trip through the States. It lasted for almost three weeks, and they covered as much of the country as they could. Close to the end, they were in Kansas, and somehow, ended up in Abilene. It was nearing night time, and they reached an unspoken agreement to wait out the crowd in the Impala, and get out only when darkness had fallen.

**-x-**

The park was empty, still and silent, save for the leaves rustling and crickets chirping.

They stood at the entrance.  Dean shivered slightly, and smiled as Castiel’s fingers, warm, solid and _safe_ slid between his own.

At first glance, so much had changed in the time that they’d been away. There were new—comparatively—swings, and there were houses all around, lining the perimeter of the ground. Dean realised with a start, that the last time he’d seen this place was eleven years ago, the day they had to leave the town.

But when you paid attention, you could see that nothing significant had changed. It was as if he was coming back after a day of being away.

It was paradoxical, and not something Dean thought he could explain. For what reason did he have, to try and make sense of something as…

“Dean?” He turned to find his… friend’s… gaze trained on him, and he smiled uncertainly. Neither of them had had any good memories here, except a few snatched moments spent together and they both knew it.

Castiel tightened the grip on his hand, and dragged him along.

They stopped under a tree, and it was Dean’s turn to look questioningly at Cas, as he stepped away from him, bringing his hands to rest against the bark.

Slowly, Castiel looked upward at the moon that shone through the leaves. Bringing his hand back, he offered it to Dean, who took it in his.

They sat down, Castiel supported by the tree, and Dean lay down by his friend. The omega was propped up on his elbow, and looked out at the darkness.

He felt Castiel squirming, and he looked at him. The alpha gestured to his shoulder, his cheeks burning. Hesitantly, he moved closer, and when he rested his head against the proffered arm, he could feel the other man relaxing. It was beautiful, and yet, so utterly, completely painful.

“Cas, I know we’ve fooled around and, uh, other stuff… But… As of now, we’re just friends. … Right? Then why do you do all this?”

Castiel didn't say anything, and when Dean looked up he saw his friend staring at some faraway spectre.

At last, he spoke, "For as long as I've known you, I've felt something for you. The very first time, it was curiosity, I think. I just wanted to know the kid who, to Alex, was something to beat up, but to me, seemed to hold all the answers to the world. Then when we grew up a bit, and I fully got to know how sweet you were—how kind, a curious mix of innocent and knowing.  Nice, despite all the horrible things that happened to you.  You were...different...special—my curiosity transformed into protectiveness. We grew up a bit more, and I started feeling things which I was sure you'd never feel back. I looked forward to seeing you, but at the same time, avoided you. Every time you expressed concern, my heart sang. I just felt so _happy_. And finally..." The alpha trailed off, his eyes glistening with tears.

Dean held his breath, watching with wide eyes, and the other man continued, exhaling roughly, "finally, that day happened, when you left and I found out too late. I felt like I was dying.  I wandered around, feeling miserable, and then I came here, to this tree, to the first place I ever saw you and there it was in the dirt—the message you left me, and I vowed to find you again. I wasn't lucky, and after so many years, I'd lost hope. Almost. Till Charlie introduced us last year... Do you even know how much you mean to me?”

Castiel turned to him, eyes wild and unnaturally bright, and Dean drew back.

The alpha shuddered, and spoke on, “It's not even a generic soap opera alpha/omega romance. It is so different from that, and there are times when I'm _so_ in awe of our bond. It’s wonderful and terrifying all at the same time.  And after all that you ask me if we're a thing? And I have to wonder, is it just me, Dean? Do we … do I... mean anything to you at all?"

The omega took deep breaths to calm himself down, his vision too blurred with tears.

He opened and closed his mouth, trying to form the words to explain, but there weren’t any.  Devotion, kismet, destiny, meant to be, adoration, soul mates—they were all just words, none were strong enough, meant enough, they were just words. At last, he settled on the simplest of truths, "I've been yours for years, Castiel, just _yours._ "

The black haired man sniffled, wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve, and smiled wetly, "Then I guess I’m yours forever."

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really hope that you loved reading this. :)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [Evenifidie](http://evenifidie.tumblr.com), and wish me on my birthday (day after tomorrow) if you want. ;P
> 
> Also, if you liked the art (which I’m SURE you did), please go tell Pimentogirl that you did. If you even think a simple "wow, it's so nice" please let her know, because even a few words like that are lovely to hear. :)
> 
> Lastly, HAPPY NEW YEAR (in advance), I love you all!!! :D


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